Star-Crossed
by sunstreaker
Summary: Harry had always assumed that teenage Voldemort was the same as the present Voldemort; cold, cruel, and very evil. For Tom Riddle, that wasn't the case... Until the only person he ever loved disappeared. Now, Harry must venture into memories of the past to find out just what happened when studious, lively Tom Riddle turned into the most dangerous dark wizard of all time. AU.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: It's not supposed to make sense yet. Bear with me. Obsessed with time travel stories and Tom, so here's one with a twist. Enjoy.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

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><p><em><strong>December 31st, 1997<strong>_

Students, Ministry officials, teachers, Aurors, and Death Eaters all gathered around the two figures in a large circle, their fighting forgotten, if only for what was about to unfold in front of them. Their breath turned to mist in the cold December air.

The stare-off was one for the history books. He was studying her, noting the subtle differences and comparing them to his memory; hair longer, yet still maintaining the silvery wisp and untamed curly look of trapped smoke; once big, almond-shaped amber-gold eyes, so full of joy and life, now filled with concealed pain and sadness; too skinny body, sporting those damned Gryffindor colors, shoulders hunched in a bit as if to shield herself from the outside world.

He did this to her.

She glared back defiantly, seeing none of the boy she once knew in those red eyes and slits for nostrils, or the unhealthy palor of his skin. Gone was his dark, silky curls, the crinkles around his vibrant green eyes. Gone was any indication that the boy she loved was anywhere to be found. 50 years of hatred and evil was the thing staring back at her, and it shook her to the very core.

She did this to him.

The Fates looked down on the scene below and were distressed by the amount of pain radiating off of the two in waves.

She was trying so hard to be strong. "Do you remember what you promised me on the last day of sixth year?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, the tears threatening to fall and the lump in her throat doing strange things to her voice.

He blinked in surprise, opened his mouth, and then closed it again, looking confused and wary.

"You promised me that everything would be okay." Her voice cracked on the word "okay," but she was too emotional to even care.

He closed his eyes, and looked as if he were in pain. Everyone in the circle surrounding them looked uncertain and some looked alarmed... all except for one student and one old man.

The tears were now forming constant streams down her cheeks. She fought the urge to run at him, whether to attack or kiss him she wasn't quite sure, but it hurt all the same.

They locked eyes once again, and as soon as they did, their faces went blank for a few seconds, before he sneered at her. "Stupid girl. You will get what you deserve for betraying my house, and once I'm through with you I shall purge this place of all who are unworthy of attending Hogwarts, unworthy of even breathing."

Her return sneer and smirk were so unlike her that the crowd grew even more suspicious, all except for the old man, who just smiled sadly and knowingly.

"You are a disgrace to Hogwarts, you snake. How dare you attempt something like this?" She shook her head. "I'm finally able to stop you, and I'm going to do just that."

As they lifted their wands, they felt themselves freeze, unable to move. The old man stepped forwards, stopping right in between the two.

With a twinkle in his eye, he addressed them in a loud, commanding voice:

"Why don't you two come out already and settle this yourselves? These dear children have suffered enough, don't you agree?"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and She-Who-We-Don't-Speak-Of**

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><p>Harry ran his fingers lightly along the dresser, mildly tuning out Slughorn's cheery narrations of the many moving photographs residing on it. His green eyes roved the frames, noting the famous witches and wizards he had heard of. Barnabas Cuffe, Gwenog Jones, his mother...<p>

Double-taking, Harry reached out to grab the photograph off of the dresser, but his hand stopped short and he simply stared, mesmerized by his mother's beautiful smile and twinkling green eyes.

His eyes.

"You taught my mother?" he asked in a strained voice.

Slughorn stopped short in whatever he was saying. "Of course, boy! Lily was a truly gifted witch, very bright, one of my favorite students of all time!" He looked mighty pleased with himself, smiling at the picture of Harry's mother the way a collector would at one of their finest pieces. It made Harry a bit uncomfortable.

The fat man pointed to the next picture. "And there's the Holyhead Harpies, signed by none other than the captain, Gwenog Jones herself! Of course, that was before they had that awful season..."

Already knowing enough of the Harpies thanks to Ginny, Harry tuned Slughorn out once more. Giving his mother a final longing glance, he moved on.

And that was when he saw it. Hidden in the back corner by shadows and a thin layer of dust was a photograph of a boy and a girl, arms around each other and laughing. They were both rather attractive people, but that was not what made him lunge for the picture.

It was the way his scar nearly burst into flame when he looked at it.

They wore green Slytherin colors and each were channeling Hermione-carrying far too many textbooks at one time. The boy's hair was dark and curly, and his piercing green eyes were crinkled softly around the corners as his lips quirked the slightest bit upwards in a reluctant amusement. The girl's long hair had the look of trapped smoke; wavy and dark with wisps of silver scattered throughout. Her eyes were an amber-gold color, and they reminded Harry randomly of a lion. She was slightly doubled over, laughing intensly, holding on to the boy's shoulder for support.

As Harry watched in equal parts horror and fascination, the boy turned his gaze down to the girl beside him, and Harry saw him give her a look of wonder, awe and adoration, all rolled into one single glance.

The girl shifted her gaze to the boy and returned his look before scrunching up her nose and sticking her tongue out, causing them to start laughing once more.

"Mr. Slughorn," harry choked out, his eyes never leaving male in the picture as he gripped the frame tightly in his hand, "is this who I think it is?"

Slughorn waddled over to where Harry stood and gazed upon the picture with an air of sadness. "Ah," he said almost regretfully. "I see you have found my only memorial to two of the greatest students it has ever been my pleasure to teach."

Harry's mind was in total shut down. He racked his brain for any recollection he had of Dumbledore mentioning a girl, but was continuously drawing a blank. "But Sir, that's-"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I am quite aware of who he is."

Slughorn's sharp reply startled Harry a bit.

There was silence as the two stared at the teenagers in the picture. Harry was confused; everything he had learned about the teenage Voldemort had led him to believe that it was impossible for Riddle to feel, let alone love, which he clearly had some sort of underlying love for the girl next to him.

"Mr. Slughorn," Harry started tentatively. At Slughorn's grunt of acknowledgment, Harry continued. "Who is...?"

He didn't feel that he had to continue.

Slughorn gave Harry a very strange look, sighed, and ran a chubby hand over his shiny bald head. "That, my dear boy, is the only friend Tom Riddle had during his years at Hogwarts. Her name is Blaise, and she was every bit his match in wit and intelligence as she was in looks." He gave Harry that strange look again. "Dumbledore never told you about her?"

Harry shook his head, which caused Slughorn to groan and mutter something close to "always did make me do all the dirty work..."

Slughorn took the photo frame from Harry and separated the actual picture form the frame. He paused, then handed it to Harry with a "turn it over."

Harry acquiesced and felt a cold chill run through his entire body.

_Tom Riddle and Blaise Potter, June 1943._

"...I don't...understand."

Slughorn gave Harry a sad smile. "Quite understandable, Harry m'boy! I imagine it must come as quite a shock, finding out that your great-aunt was your worst enemy's best friend."

Harry felt the urge to sit down for a bit, or maybe for forever. "...didn't know I had a great aunt," he said weakly.

Slughorn nodded happily, admiring the picture of his two former students he had just barely been able to catch before it hit the ground. He gently put it back in its frame and replaced it back on the Shelf where it sat proudly. "She was quite popular back in the day, not unlike yourself, I'm sure." Slughorn gave Harry a knowing smile.

Harry held back the snort, thinking of all the stares and whispers he received in the corridors at school. He remembered just in time that he was supposed to be getting on this man's good side. Filing away the tidal wave of information he just received for further analysis with Ron and Hermione later, Harry went in for the kill.

"I don't know," Harry said as meekly as he could. "I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing."

Slughorn's whole demeanor changed dramatically. "Of course you don't, Harry m'boy! Too modest for your own good, you are, and humble at that!..."

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><p>"Sir," Harry started as soon as they were out of earshot of Slughorn's front door.<p>

Dumbledore raised his hand. "Ah, Harry, not yet. Wait..."

"Alright, I'll do it!"

They turned to find Slughorn standing once more on the front porch, waving his arm to get their attention.

"You'll come out of retirement?"

The next words looked like they caused Slughorn a great deal of pain. "Yes, yes... I must be mad, but yes."

Dumbledore beamed. "Wonderful. Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," the fat man grumbled.

As Dumbledore turned back around and started off again with Harry following suit, Slughorn's voice flaoted after them. "I'll want a pay raise, Albus!"

Dumbledore chuckled, eyes twinkling.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, the Headmaster broke it. "Alright Harry, you may continue with what you were going to say."

Harry took a moment to rack his brain. What _was _he trying to say, again?

Oh, right. "Blaise Potter, sir?"

The old man beside Harry grew somber immediately. "Ah yes, Blaise Potter."

More silence.

"Sir," Harry tried again, but was cut off by Dumbledore raising his hand.

"I know that you are burning with curiosity right now, Harry, but I must request that before you start asking questions, you first listen carefully to what I have to say."

"...alright, Professor."

The two came across a bench placed underneath a street lamp and Dumbledore made himself comfortable, patting the seat next to him for Harry to do the same. Once Harry was as settled as he was going to get, Dumbledore began his tale.

"The reason you do not know of your great aunt, Harry, is because we do not speak of her. It is too painful and sad for most. Your great-great grandparents had been trying to get pregnant for years, and had almost given up hope, when a young witch, who it turns out is your cousin Connie Peverell, found them and said she was pregnant, but could not keep the baby. They graciously accepted. A few days later, your great-great-grandparents found out that they had succeeded in conceiving a child-your grandfather. They did not want to let the poor woman down, especially since she was family, so they kept the agreement going. The two children were born an hour apart, and the Potter twins were introduced to the world."

Harry didn't know what to think anymore. He wasn't even sure he knew how to think. "So she's my... adopted great-aunt and cousin?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Essentially, yes. It was a secret known by few. It would have been a great scandal back then if it was common knowledge."

Harry frowned, seeing the hole in that plan. "But sir, she looked nothing like my dad and me, how could people believe they were twins?"

"My dad and I, Harry." Dumbledore corrected. "You are correct, of course, but the story was that they were fraternal twins, not identical, and nobody could think of any logical reason why they would lie about it."

Harry was even more confused than when they started the conversation. "But sir, I still don't understand how this ties into Voldemort...?"

Dumbledore smiled a small, sad smile. "Blaise was very well liked, among all the houses and staff. She was intelligent, witty, charming. She and Tom shared the ability to make people feel special, simply by talking to them. They didn't get along at first, but while they brought out the worst in each other, they also brought out the best. I know what you're thinking, Harry," Dumbledore said, cutting off whatever Harry was about to say. "You think that Tom Riddle was always a monster, that he had no human emotions and that he couldn't feel; that was not always so. He found acceptance and love in the frienship between him and Blaise Potter, and, if the circumstances were different, I believe they would have accepted their feelings for one another and lived happily ever after."

Harry felt his insides turn cold. "Circumstances, sir?"

Dumbledore turned to Harry and his eyes were more serious than Harry had ever seen them. "He came to Hogwarts in his sixth year as Tom Riddle, and left Hogwarts in his sixth year as Lord Voldemort."

At Harry's confused expression, Dumbledore closed his eyes, seemingly in pain.

"Blaise Potter disappeared at the end of her sixth year, and has been missing since June of 1943."

**A/N: Hey! How are ya! **

**I really like this chapter and I hope you do too. **

**Hopefully this clears up whatever confusion you guys had! **

**Enjoy! **

**(For disclaimer see prologue) **


	3. Chapter 2

_**Hey guys, sorry for the wait... super busy. I'm going to try to update every 2 - 2 1/2 weeks. Most likely on weekends. I need to have better time management skills, haha. Anyways, enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: see prologue**_

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><p><strong>Chapter two: Accusations<strong>

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><p>"Are you ready, Harry?"<p>

_Not really. _

"Yes, Professor."

And Harry stuck his head into the Pensive.

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><p>A much younger Albus Dumbledore than the one Harry knew was sitting in McGonagall's transfiguration classroom, but it was with those same, familiar twinkling blue eyes that were looking down at the pile of essays on the desk before him. Harry didn't know that Dumbledore was a redhead! His hair and beard were much shorter, and were an interesting dark orange, not unlike a fiery summer sunset. His robes were only slightly less appalling than they were in the present day; dark brown with barely-discernable black cats here and there.<p>

_Some things just never change, _Harry thought, shaking his head.

Apparently, fifty years really hadn't changed the quirky Headmaster much. He heard a noise behind him and when he turned around, the present Dumbledore was seated at one of the empty desks, observing his former self with a decided amusement.

"I do miss those robes," the old wizard commented sadly, more twinkle than usual in his eyes.

Harry wasn't sure exactly what to say. "Erm, they're quite, uh, nice, Professor," he said lamely, trying not to offend the Headmaster.

Dumbledore just smiled knowingly.

Startling Harry, a student burst loudly through the door. Neither of the Dumbledores flinched, which reaffirmed Harry, Ron and Hermione's suspicions that nothing in the world could surprise their beloved Headmaster.

Ginger Dumbledore, as Harry had decided to call him in order to differentiate in his mind between the two, simply wrote a grade at the top of his current essay and set it beside the great pile. "May I help you, Mr. Weasley?"

Harry started. He then realized that the student who just burst into the classroom had a rather uncanny resemblance to his best friend.

Ron's grandfather had the same shock of bright orange hair, pale skin and dusting of freckles as Ron himself. The boy's ears were bright red, and Harry ventured to guess that he was upset about something.

What shocked Harry the most was the deep green Slytherin crest on the front of the boy's robes. _Ron would throw a fit. _

"Professor, come quick, something's happened to Blaise Potter!"

That got the transfiguration teacher's attention. His blue eyes immediately snapped up and pierced Ron's grandfather in the most serious way Harry had ever seen. "Where?" he demanded, standing up.

Grandfather Weasley beckoned with his hand. "Seventh floor corridor," he said, before racing off again.

Ginger Dumbledore crossed the classroom with long, determined strides. Harry had never seen him move so fast. Harry immediately got up and followed, momentarily forgetting Present Day Dumbledore in the classroom.

Even with the professor moving at an alarmingly fast pace, they still had seven floors to cover, and it took a while.

Harry wasn't prepared for what he saw when they got there.

Right outside the entrance to the Room of Requirement, there was chaos. Harry immediately spotted Tom Riddle being held back by a student with black hair and two adults, presumably teachers. He had a cut on his lip, his robes were torn, and he looked absolutely livid. His deep green eyes were spitting fire, and Harry could swear he saw them flash red.

He must have been imagining things.

About twenty feet away, a group of boys in Slytherin robes were holding back a boy who couldn't be anyone other than a Malfoy. His mussed-up hair was the exact same shade of white-blonde that Draco and Lucius possessed, and his eyes were Draco's grey, although one was swollen shut and he sported a nasty looking cut on one cheek. Among the crowd of Slytherins he saw a Pug-Nosed Parkinson, two very large boys he could only assume were Crabbe and Goyle, Orion Black, a dark-skinned boy who resembled Blaise Zabini, and a set of identical twins who had a very watered-down version of Bellatrix Lestrange's crazed look.

_So these were the original Death Eaters, _Harry mused.

Ginger Dumbledore strode right into the heart of no-man's land and demanded answers.

The Malfoy spoke up first. "Riddle almost Avada'd me, Professor!" He said, and Harry couldn't help but compare him even more to Draco.

Riddle was practically snarling, a feral look in his eyes. "You killed her, you useless fucking git!" he roared, renewing his struggling.

With yet another start, Harry realized that the student holding Riddle back looked exactly like him, but with brown eyes instead of green and lacking glasses.

_Granddad, _Harry thought. It gave him a strange feeling.

Ginger Dumbledore turned to Riddle. "Whom did Caluga kill, Tom?" he asked, slight alarm in his voice.

Riddle ceased his struggling and looked at the transfiguration professor for the first time, panting. The fury in his eyes never left, but Harry saw a great deal of pain enter them.

His voice grew cold and calm. "Blaise." He retorted, shifting his glare back at Caluga Malfoy. "The slimy bastard killed Blaise, and I am going to kill him." The threat made Malfoy flinch and scowl deeply.

"I didn't, Professor! The curse never hit her, Blaise just disappeared!" he insisted, looking terrified.

"You're a liar!" Tom yelled, resuming his struggling once again. Harry's grandfather had a strained expression; apparently Riddle was strong and putting up one hell of a fight.

"**ENOUGH**!" Ginger Dumbledore roared, and immediately Riddle and Malfoy were immobilized. Harry realized, with a shock, that Ginger Dumbledore was furious. It was terrifying.

"There have been some very serious accusations made tonight, and you are lucky I don't expel you both on the spot!" he said, glaring at the two Slytherins. "I intend to get to the bottom of Ms. Potter's disappearance, but until then you two will be separated until you are called to Headmaster Dippet's office. If I hear that either one of you has so much as _thought_ of committing another act of violence against each other until then, I will personally see to it you will be out of here faster than you can say 'Hogwarts.' _Am I making myself clear?_"

"Crystal," Riddle snapped, before turning and stalking away, cold rage radiating off of his retreating figure. A bang was heard from around the corner and Harry was sure that Riddle had punched something in passing.

Ginger Dumbledore didn't even look at the crowd of Slytherins. "Take him to the hospital wing," he said tiredly.

When they were gone, he turned to Harry's grandfather. "Charlus, what in Merlin's painted toenails is going on?"

Charlus Potter gave a shaky sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair, something that Harry did when he was stressed. "I'd like to know that myself, Professor. I was on my way to the library when I heard a commotion, along with Tom and Blaise's voices. I went to check it out and saw Riddle pummeling Malfoy, with Blaise nowhere in sight." His voice faltered, and he looked on the verge of tears. "She's… she's alright, isn't she, Professor?" he asked in a very small voice.

Ginger Dumbledore put a reassuring hand on Charlus' shoulder. "We will find out what happened to Blaise," he promised.

Harry immediately noticed that Ginger Dumbledore did not answer his grandfather's question.

Suddenly, Harry felt a lifting sensation, and he and Dumbledore were once more in the Headmaster's office, in the present day. Green eyes filled with curiosity met grave, saddened blue ones.

"What really happened to her, Professor?"

A sigh. "That is what I need you for, Harry; only one person has that memory and he is also the only one who we have easy access to at the moment."

A frown. "Who is it?"

Fingers twiddling the ends of his long grey beard absently. "Professor Slughorn was the only person privy to the event prior to the one we just witnessed… the only person who we have convenient access to at the moment, anyways."

Enlightenment. "So that's why you brought him back! So you can find out what really happened!"

A small, distracted smile. "Yes, that is correct. Well, that, and Horace also gives the most thoughtful Christmas presents."

Harry ignored that last part and frowned as he found a flaw in the Dumbledore's story. "But sir, Slughorn wasn't one of the teachers holding back Riddle. I didn't see him there at all, actually."

Dumbledore's somber eyes regained some of their sparkle. "Ah, good job, Harry. Yes, it took me quite some time and lots of trips back into that particular memory, but after noticing a rather conspicuous mustache behind a pillar, I, ah, _persuaded_ Horace with a few rounds of Minerva's favorite single malt whiskey and he admitted to witnessing the whole thing."

Harry chuckled. _Only Dumbledore. _

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><p>"…and now Dumbledore wants me to get the memory out of Slughorn," Harry finished.<p>

The Golden Trio was sitting in their corner of the common room. Ron was stretched out on the loveseat. Beside him, Hermione's ever-growing pile of books was left abandoned as she sat on the floor next to Harry, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Tough luck, mate" Ron said absently, admiring the shadows cast on his bicep from the dimmed lights. Hermione rolled her eyes at him in exasperation, causing Harry to smile.

"Well," Hermione started in a factual tone of voice, "it really shouldn't be all that hard. We just have to tail Slughorn for a while, figure out his routine, and you can corner him somewhere when he's alone, Harry."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That's the thing, Dumbledore said that when he tried to get Slughorn to give him the memory before, Slughorn flipped out and ran away from him."

Ron sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, now paying attention. "So the old tosser doesn't want anyone to see the memory? Why not?" he asked with a frown. "Isn't that illegal or something?"

"Only if Dumbledore tells," Hermione said, her already thoughtful face growing ever increasingly so. "Withholding evidence of a crime is very illegal, but seeing as most of the witnesses are either rich, powerful, a combination of the two or dead then I don't think anyone really cares anymore."

"How can one girl's disappearance turn Riddle into Voldemort?" Ron asked, his frown deepening. "Wasn't he, like, I dunno, good?"

"Dumbledore said that the change was very drastic and very quick," Harry replied. "Plus, she was the only person that Riddle ever loved. He adored her, and she him. They were inseparable."

While he said this, Harry found his thoughts turning to a certain captivating Weasley girl. He and Ginny were spending copious amounts of time together when she wasn't with Dean Thomas, her current boyfriend. Harry couldn't help but feel his insides turn to mush and words jumble together whenever he was around her, and all she did was smile her heartbreaking smile at him. He didn't want to wish any unhappiness on the couple, but at the same time he just wanted them to break up already so that he could claim Ginny as his once and for all.

Ron be damned.

At the calling of his name, Harry snapped out of his trance. Ron was frowning at him, probably blaming it on Harry not eating enough at dinner.

Hermione gave him a rare smirk and lifted one eyebrow knowingly. Blushing, Harry scowled at her and announced that he needed some sleep, saying goodnight before heading up to his dormitory.

He had a lot to think about, and a hell of a lot of planning ahead of him.


End file.
